


your face flushed and handsome, reaped in nuclear haze

by Phoenixgriffin260



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Nuclear Weapons, Nuclear Winter, Other, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26273539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixgriffin260/pseuds/Phoenixgriffin260
Summary: Your friend isn't who he is anymore, but he's still your friend, right?
Relationships: Original Fear Entity Avatar Character(s) (The Magnus Archives) & Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. ozone depletion

His hands are bittersweet, prickling at your skin; cold, dangerous- all the warning signs of hail wrapped up in a body with edges too soft and eyes too warm and a smile that ticks to his geiger count heart. 

He's too much to be trusted, but you have nothing to lose, really- he laughs at your jokes the same way a best friend would, the splitting of ice running its course through your bones in a nuclear haze that leaves you dizzy, but he slings a deadman's frostbitten arm around you and laughs, again, teeth too sharp and with a touch that leaves frost through your skin. 

Sometimes he jokes about the night, whispering words under his breath that freeze the air in his path, eyes wide as he watches the sun dip behind the horizon. 

Your heart beats in time with the warning.


	2. whiteout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cw body horror, implied sexual content (not to the reader)

You've seen what happens when people kiss him- not you, of course, you're not attracted to him; he's a friend, a confidant, somebody who takes your secrets in his hands and lets them deteriorate into ashy snowflakes- but those who do _burn._

Maybe you shouldn't laugh, but the way their lips bloat and bleed, flesh thin and all shades from light purple to necrosis, blistering under his love... it's strange, really, watching skin burn from the cold instead of the heat.

They pour only truth from their mouths now, and some sick part of you wants to taste it, after so long of being lied to, of being manipulated by people above you.

His cool touch lingers on their tongues, hardens their heart, and sets them shaking and bow-legged into the new universe, one kiss and laugh and carefully placed hand at a time, and you... watch. 

It's all you can do. 

Somebody else's gasp cuts short behind you, and he shushes over his shoulder, grinning a winter sun.


End file.
